From the archive, 16 February 1952: Burial of King George VI

However difficult and exhausting it was to be in front of the crowd and see all the procession, it was easy enough to be at the back and see little. Many of us were in that unprivileged position, but we did not complain, or push, shove, or fight to take advantage of those who had won better positions by waiting patiently.

Whatever the occasion, sad or gay, the Cockney crowd is the best mannered in the world. One is never afraid to be in the midst of it. When the coffin drew near, every hat came off and the crowd was as silent as if in church. Though we could not see, we at the back perhaps felt more, for the eye is greedy, and checks emotion. One will always remember the old coster woman in St James's Park who knew that the Queen Mother was passing because she could just see the red cloaks of the footmen on the State coach. Crying quietly, she said, in a beautifully old-fashioned way: "I can see her now, coming so happy from her wedding in her coronet coach."

Before the procession arrived, we at the back were more comfortable than those jammed in front, who were tired and could not move about. We were more talkative. We could open our newspapers and become experts on the uniformed men whose caps we could see when they passed. We could swing youngsters on our shoulders, and we were extraordinarily obstinate in our references to the Duke of Windsor. We nearly always miscalled him "the Prince of Wales". It was a queer "mistake". Perhaps the psychologist can explain it?

In the midst of death we are in life. At the back of the crowd babies cried, children played, hawkers of small pieces of mirror moved up and down. One, wearing five medals, stopped selling as soon as the gun carriage drew near and joined the crowd. Using one of his unsold mirrors to see better, he saluted with his other hand.

The knowledgeable Cockney knew instinctively that the best point in the procession for the late-comer was the Park Lane side of Marble Arch, on the grass between the railings and the carriageway. This vantage point was easily reached at the last moment, and, just as important, easily left. From here a large group slipped away quickly across Oxford Street and along a series of empty little streets behind the Edgware Road to an obscure corner of Paddington which faced the very street along which the procession arrived at the railway station.

Once again we at the back saw the royal funeral go by, and once again we heard that queer "mistake" as Cockney voices identified the four royal dukes. "See there, chum, next to the Dook of Glorster – that's the Prince of Wales."

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